


Keep The Wolves In The Woods, Keep The Dead In Their Graves

by PigeonsToCrows



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PigeonsToCrows/pseuds/PigeonsToCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon Park was a normal person. Okay, maybe not. Maybe he was a werewolf, but that didn't call for this to be happening. What is he going to tell his mom when she finds out about the creepy vampire guy who keeps following him and obviously has feelings for him? And what will he tell her when he actually starts to return those feelings? Not to mention what'll happen if anyone finds out about either of their inhumanity.</p><p>A.K.A., A Eddie/Waylon Vampire/Werewolf AU!<br/>I will update the characters as they come in, as well as the warnings! Sex will happen in the future, I warn you!<br/><b><br/></b><br/>NOTICE: This fic won't be updated any time soon, HOWEVER, it has not been abandoned! I am going to take time to write out all of the chapters, and when they are all done, I will update and finish this fic! Thank you all so much for the support!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down The Path To Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time at writing a multiple chapter story! Sorry if it's pretty bad in the beginning. Eddie may be a little OOC, but he'll get to be our crazy buddy later on :>

Waylon draped his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the front of it so it wouldn’t fall off of him. It was an old cloak, covered in patches and a few holes, but it was his nonetheless. 

“Mom, I’m going to town to get more bread!” he called up the stairs to their small home. She replied for him to be careful, as always, and he grabbed the grocery basket, heading out into the warm morning. Before heading off, he pulled his hood up to cover and conceal the two furry ears that laid atop his blond hair. His tail was hidden as well, under the cloak, hiding his and his family's’ secret.

He was a werewolf. His whole family consisted of them. His and a few other families had to hold the burden of the curse on their backs throughout life, and that was all he knew. As far as he knew, it wasn’t _so_ bad. He looked perfectly human, aside from the ears and tail, and acted like a civilized human at any time possible. Sure, they turned when it was a full moon, which was kind of scary, but whatever.

He was a scrawny wolf, if you’d even call him that. He liked to consider himself a human, no matter how much he was reminded that he wasn’t.

He liked to blend in, and to study the real humans. The small town that the forest he called home surrounded was his favorite place to be. He took a different route to the town everytime he went, going farther and farther into the forest each time, mapping it out in his mind.Today he pushed through some bushes about a mile away from his house, and found a small dirt trail. It appeared that the trail lead straight towards the town, but he noticed that it continued to go back, a straight line into the dense and surrounding forests. He hesitated, staring into the deep unknown for a moment, before turning and walking towards town. 

He didn’t know why, but it gave him a bad feeling thinking about following the trail.

After an hour or so, he found his way to town. It was as busy and bustling as ever, the vast variety of townspeople hurrying about with children in hand, a sweetheart, or alone to one of the various shops and boutiques, or small stands set up around the square. 

Waylon walked around the various selections, window shopping the clothes and fruits, thoroughly examining and searching through the vegetables, and ultimately making small talk and mingling with anyone willing. After a while, he had a few apples, a small round of cheese, and a canteen with fresh orange juice stowed away safely inside of the wicker basket. 

He took notice of the time from a clock displayed on the wall of a shop, and decided it was time to get the bread and start heading home. He let his eyes wander as his nose took in the various scents leading up to the bread bakery he always went to. 

After selecting a loaf and paying the familiar old woman behind the counter, he made his way out of the shop and out of the town. He followed back the same trail he had used previously, and was soon met with the part in the bushes that he would turn in to go home, and the straight path back deeper into the forest. 

Curiosity was always a bitch, wasn’t it?

He took the first steps onto the path, and before he knew it, he was on his way to wherever it would take him. 

…

It was cold. It was dark. It was raining. 

Waylon had misjudged the time, apparently. It had grown dark rather quickly after he had set his path, and he didn’t want to risk going back the way he came, because he didn’t know where to turn off. He was scared. He pulled the light cloth around him tighter, shivering as he looked around warily. He had no idea where he was.

He everything was silent around him, aside from the crickets and the sound of twigs cracking behind him. Wait. 

What?

He didn’t spare any time or thought before he broke into a sprint, throwing himself forward down the path. If it were a villager, he’d be killed for his inhumanity, if it was another werewolf, he’d be killed for stepping onto a different territory, and oh God, if it was a vampire, he’d be killed for the fun of it.

He ran until his legs ached and his lungs burned from sucking in the night’s frosty air. Eventually he tripped, yelping and twisting his ankle, before falling to the earthy ground, setting the basket beside him as he caught his breath. 

He was being ridiculous.

Vampires were just a story that mom’s told their pups, to keep them obeying orders and out of the woods. Hah. Look how far that got him. His older brother and his friends used to tell him stories of how the woods used to be full of vampires, until the werewolves came. They wiped the creatures out of the forest, overpowering even the most powerful ones. All except for one family of vampires. The fabled Gluskins. They were a small family, with a lot of power. They were able to ward of the beasts, and according to their stories, still survived in these woods today. 

But that was all a story, right?

Waylon looked around himself, seeing an endless path in both directions, walled off by a dense fence of evergreen and shrubs on either side of the long, dusty road. Then he began to cry. He cried for many reasons. He cried because he was lost, he cried because he was alone, he cried because it was dark and he was scared, and because he was cold. But most of all, he cried because he couldn’t do anything else.

His hood fell from his head as he threw his head back and let out the grossest, loudest, neediest, sob that he had in him. He didn’t even care who found him, he just wanted to be found. He didn’t even wipe his eyes or nose or mouth, simply sobbed and curled up on his side in the dirt.

He cried so hard, he didn’t hear the twigs breaking behind him again. He cried so hard, he didn’t even notice the body stopping a few feet behind him. 

_“Darling!”_

Waylon froze for a moment, until he heard the footsteps growing closer. Then, he pushed himself up and backwards in a fluid motion, kicking his basket over in the process as he kicked himself away from the person. 

“Oh, Darling, how I’ve been looking for you!”

The man was dressed in what used to be a fancy blue waistcoat, white button up shirt, black dress pants, and a blue bowtie for effect, though everything was now covered in dirt and ripped. His hair was cut in a rather peculiar fashion, he noticed through the darkness, and his face was marred on one side, a large scar covering an area around his eye. He was eerily pale, and his blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Waylon was now terrified. 

Like any terrified teen in a forest, confronted by a tall man calling him darling, he fainted on the spot.

…

He was being carried. He felt the motions of swaying and bouncing, and he felt the arms holding him up, one under his knees and the other around his back, protectively holding him. His eyes were still closed, but he was awake. He smiled, wrapping his arms around his holder’s neck tightly. 

“Oh, thank goodness, never do that again! I thought I’d lost you, Darling!”

His eyes snapped open and he released the man carrying him, flailing around for a moment as he looked around in the darkness. His heartbeat quickened, and he remembered what had happened. 

“W-who are you, what do you want from me?”, he blurted the questions out hastily as he stared at the man. 

“Please, don’t hurt yourself, we don’t want your ankle to be worsened”, he explained as he increased his grip around Waylon. “We’ll be home soon, Darling, then we shall take care of the problem”, he muttered quietly as he continued walking. It was now that Waylon realised that his basket was in his lap, and he cautiously opened it, finding everything he had bought inside.

Apparently, his captor noticed his hesitation to move, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite” he smiled and flashed his eyes to his, “hard”, and that was when Waylon noticed the distinct fangs. Then he cried out and fainted again.

…

Waylon awoke, for the third time that night, in bad condition. He was laying on a soft mattress, engulfed by silky sky blue sheets, and he was tired. That was until he felt the hands around his ankle, move up and down his bare sides. Then he realized he was shirtless and laying in a vampire’s bed.

He screamed as loud as he could as he sat up. The man who was next to him allowed his reaction, and then pushed him lightly back down, where his hand lingered around his cheek while he gazed into his eyes with a smile.

“Do not fear, Darling. I would never hurt you, more than I had to.” he whispered as he leaned down and pressed his cold, dead lips to Waylon’s.

He pulled back quickly, it was a small and quick peck, more than anything, but it made Waylon shiver all the same. 

“What do you want with me?” Waylon asked with a shaky tone as he raised one hand to feel the sides of his neck; no bites, thank goodness.

He was answered with a smile and a hand running down his side. “I just want you.”

“Me? I need to go home, to my mom..” he sat up in the large bed and looked around. There was a large window on the side of the room, but heavy black curtains prevented any light, making it impossible to tell what time it was. The room would be pitch black, if not for the several oil lamps positioned around, evenly bathing the room in a warm light. He noticed how old everything looked. The nightstands and any trinkets or dresser in the room had a thick layer of dust coating it. It seemed the only things not covered in a gray layer was the bed, a spot on the wall next to the door, and a straight path on the floor, from the bed and out of the room. 

Out of the room.  
That’s where he wanted to be.

“I gotta go”, he muttered again as he tried to stand, only to fall as soon as he put pressure on his ankle. He cried out as he held his ankle, and the vampire came around the other side of the bed quickly, picking him up under the arms, and sitting him back onto the bed. 

“Darling, you mustn't be walking on your leg for a few days, ‘less we want you to injure yourself further.” he scolded sternly. He sat on the bed next to him, running his fingers up and down the injured ankle, which was now wrapped nicely in cloth that looked like it had been torn from an old shirt. Waylon stared at the man while he stared intently at the floor, seemingly deep in thought.

“You want to go home?” he asked finally, his eyes now locked with Waylon’s. Waylon nodded in answer. 

“I have to go home to my mom.. I’m the only one to take care of her”, he explained as he straightened his position. 

“Alright.”, was all the man said as he stood and left the room. Waylon was confused, but he sat in the bed. What in the world had he gotten himself into? Why wasn’t this vampire eating him alive or something? His thoughts were interrupted as the man returned, Waylon’s cloak, shirt, and basket in his arm.

He helped Waylon put on his clothes, fastening his cloak for him, and kissing his nose, before handing him the basket. “Everything you brought is there. Now, let’s go”, he said as he pulled back the curtains, it was still night, opening the glass pane, and picking up Waylon, bridal style like before, and hoping out into the night. Waylon caught a glimpse of the home, it was very large, and they had come from the second story. He didn’t know vampires were so durable. 

“Rest, my love. We’ll be there soon”, he heard the man whisper above him. He looked around for a moment, before he rested his head to the man’s chest, and fell asleep, listening to the silence of no heartbeat.


	2. This Couldn't Get Any Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon's 18th Birthday arrives! Not much more happens haha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be sadder, and we'll get a taste of mad Eddie, or will he get a taste of someone??  
> i'msorryforthepun  
> aaa
> 
> sorry this took forever ;u;

Waylon woke up gasping. 

He felt like he was drowning in heat as he sat up in his bed, pulling his shirt over his head and depositing it quickly onto the floor. His blanket was pushed onto the floor and his pillow was nearly on top of the nightstand. The wolf swung his legs over the side of the bed as he rubbed his eyes and caught his breath.

That was three years ago.

He remembered vividly how he had woken up in front of his house, curled up by the large oak that his great grandparents had planted generations ago. He had stood and limped to his front door, groceries in hand, and entered to find his mother sitting alone at the kitchen table, crying. He didn’t try to explain about where he’d gone, or the man. He was certain it was just some sort of delusion he had had while trying to find his way home in the woods. It was all just a dream. 

His mother accepted the explanation that he had went the wrong way, and had gotten lost, as long as Waylon was safe and home. He had bathed, eaten, and been given a lot of unnecessary love that night, to help forget about the whole event, and the dream in which he swore to never tell his mother. 

Even still, he couldn’t help himself from doubting whether it was fact or fiction. When he had went to sleep that night, he still wondered how he managed to dress his ankle so well. And where the necklace left in the basket came from. Whatever.

Waylon stood up from his bed, picking up the blanket and throwing it onto the mattress. He’d make it later, before his mom threw a fit about it. He turned his gaze to the window, where he confirmed that it was morning, telling from the sunshine illuminating the room and warming his skin when he stepped into it’s light. The window was still open. 

Ever since the incident, he had began to leave his window open at all times. He couldn’t place why, but he supposed it just formed into a habit over time. Even in the winter, he would leave it cracked enough to let a breeze flow through. 

He gazed out the window for a moment, raising his hand to play with the key around his neck. When he found it in the basket, he put it on, and never took it off. It was a fancy looking key, a deep bronze-gold, appearing to have been made years ago, and handled oftenly, though he had no idea what it went to. His ears perked up when he heard his mother calling from the ajar door.

He sighed and went to his dresser to get ready for “his day”.

…

Waylon finally tucked his necklace under his shirt as he walked down the stairs.

He was immediately met with the smell of breakfast sausage and warm toast. When he came into the kitchen, he saw that the room was decorated with colored cloth hanging from the ceiling and a plate of breakfast sitting on the table for him.

“Good morning, Birthday boy! So big, already eighteen.” his mother greeted him as he sat down at the table, kissing his hair before going back to washing dishes. “I hope you slept well, because I need you to run to the market and pick up some things before you head off”, she explained as he ate.

He finished his meal quickly, pulling on his boots and placing his dish into the sink. “What do we need?”, he asked as he pulled his cloak around himself and picked up the grocery basket. His mother hurried over, handing him a list and a small bag filled with coins, before kissing him on the cheek and reaching up to adjust the cloak and pull up the hood.

“You’ve always been the shortest man in our family, haha.” she smiled as he kissed her cheek in return and headed out the door. 

“Be careful!” she called.

“No worries mom, I’ll be fine”

…

Waylon took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm air and fresh scents of the morning market. He always felt so at home in the town, and everyone always greeted him like he was.

The wolf pulled the list he was given to look over everything that was written; bread, milk, sugar, apples.It was all pretty normal, and he knew where everything was already, so it wouldn’t take long to complete the shopping. He smiled as he began weaving his way through the square, stopping to look at various selections of foods and clothes.

He was fairly well known around the town, so it was no surprise when he was stopped by several people who wanted to say hello, or the few who knew that today was his first day of being a man, to congratulate him. He would laugh and joke with them, thanking them for the talk, and if they had children (They loved him), he would ruffle their hair or pick them up for a moment, then he would carry on his way. 

He tried to be kind when he could, and would often help people carry groceries or help with directions, but for the most part, he stayed to himself. It was natural for someone of his descent to be antisocial and cold, but he made it a point to communicate with humans. His brothers used to tell him that humans were scum, and only present to harm or be harmed, but Waylon thought much differently. 

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he made his way in front of his first stop, the bakery. It didn’t have a proper name, and when he asked Mrs. Blaire, she replied that it was simply the town bakery. Mrs. Blaire had known Waylon since childhood, and he was a loyal customer, refusing to buy baked goods from anywhere else. It was also his workplace, though he had gotten the day off because of his birthday. 

He entered the store, the small bell above head ringing to signal his arrival as he smiled at the man behind the counter. “Hey there, Park.” Jeremy greeted with a smirk as the wolf approached the counter.

“Hey Jeremy, I just need a loaf of wheat.” he requested, handing over a few coins as he retrieved the bread. Jeremy was around the same age as Waylon, and was Mrs. Blaire’s grandson, so he has known him for a while. He was nice, but he put him on edge whenever he was in his presence. He always knew how to tell when Waylon was lying or nervous, which he used to his advantage constantly.

After receiving the bread, he waved and said his goodbyes before leaving the bakery.

…

Waylon thanked the man behind the counter of the corner store as he put the bag of sugar into his basket, before turning and heading out the door. It was still an early in the day, and upon glancing up, he would guess it was just before noon.

He walked past the sights, sounds, and scents of the bustling market place and back into the wilderness that he called home, a home that still held many, many, secrets. He took his time when he started walking, enjoying the light that occasionally dappled the forest floor through the leaves above him.

He continued walking contently along the straight forest path back to his home. Then he grew uneasy. 

He felt as though someone was staring at him. He didn’t stop walking, though he took notice of his surroundings more, listening intently as he continued. He was almost home, it would only take around ten minutes to arrive and be safe at his door step. If he just kept walking, everything would be okay. 

Then he heard running footsteps behind him. 

He almost broke into a sprint, until he heard someone call to him. “Sir, wait!”

Waylon turned and watched as a man came down the road, stopping close to him. He had a long, aged, blue cloak surrounding himself. The ragged hood covered the man’s head, sending shadows across the visible portion of his face, concealing his identity for reasons unknown to the wolf. He handed a cloth covered bundle to Waylon, “You forgot your apples”

Waylon looked at the bundle in his hands, and when it was apparent the man meant no harm in his strange way of dressing, he opened a corner of the bundle and confirmed that they were his apples. He rewrapped them and placed them into his basket, turning back to smile at the man when he was presented with the man cupping his hand around the wolf’s cheek. He could make out a smile underneath the shade of his hood.

“You’ve grown so much. Is that stubble I feel?” he muttered, seemingly to himself, before removing his hand and stepping back, “Happy birthday, Darling.” the man whispered before turning and disappearing off of the path and into the forest. 

Waylon stood in place, glued to where he was as he stared at the portion of forest that the mystery man had disappeared through. He was torn between running after him, and running home to tell his mom.

Finally he came back to reality, raising one hand to graze his fingertips across his cheek where the man had touched him. His hand had been cold, he remembered as he turned and began to walk towards his home. Somethings had set him off guard, really badly. Darling. Why had he called him that? He didn’t like that one bit.

He shook his head, his hood falling down as his ears laid back on his head. He needed to get a grip. Humans were weird. It was nothing. Besides, it was his birthday. He would go home and celebrate like every eighteen year old boy would.

…

“Go, go, shoo! I’ll call you down when the surprise is ready”, his mother said as she playfully swatted at Waylon, pointing him toward the front door.

“Alright, alright mom! Where do you want me to go?”, he asked as he chuckled and put his hood back on.

“I don’t care Way, go purge a little at the market, honey” she responded as she patted his shoulder.

He had returned around twenty minutes previously with the supplies that his mother had requested, and he had helped her stock the cupboards afterwards. Now, she was pushing him away from from the kitchen, claiming she had a special birthday “surprise”. He agreed, she did something of this nature every year, though it felt like the first time at every unveiling. It was the best part of birthdays.

He pushed the door shut behind him as he fingered the coins he had earned last week from work as he began to walk to the town. He didn’t know what he wanted. Usually his paychecks went toward groceries or clothes. He never really wanted anything else, so when he was presented with all of the possibilities, it was a difficult decision.

As he walked, he pondered all of the small gifts he could get for himself, and before he knew it, he was back in the market. Things had quieted down compared to earlier, though there were still many people wandering around through the shops and stands. He imagined again what it would be like to live right here, being able to wake up and step right out into the heat of it all every morning. After a minute of daydreaming he dismissed it with a smile. He would miss the forest too much.

He walked around for a minute, looking at the various goods he could get with interest coating his eyes. 

Finally, he stopped at a small cart where a woman sat, flipping the pages of a book with a bored expression. The cart had a few books for sale, but what caught his eye was a stack of notebooks.

“Hello, miss, may I ask how much your notebooks are?” Waylon asked after a moment of no acknowledgement.

She looked up after a moment and gave him a bored look, before looking back down at the book. “Three ‘bucks”, she responded finally.

He hesitated for a moment, before pulling out his coins and giving her the amount requested, leaving him with a couple of dollars left, and he took the top notebook and headed off, but not before buying a pen for a few cents as well.

…

The book was filled with pages yellowed with age, and bound together by a worn, brown leather, neatly held shut by a matching brown strap. The clasp of the strap was accentuated by a small red stone. 

He knew it wasn’t very exciting, owning a notebook, but he was nearly bursting on the way back to his home. He was so focused in flipping through all of the empty pages, he hadn’t realized he’d been jogging until he found himself at his doorstep. 

Upon entering, he was greeted with a delicious scent enveloping him. He shut the door gently behind him as he took his cloak off, hooking it on the rack. He started towards the kitchen, poking his head around the doorway, making sure his mother was there, before walking over to the table and setting his notebook down. 

“What’s that?”, he asked her, making his presence known as he leaned over the end of a chair.

“Welcome back! I’m making dinner, it’s beef for the special occasion.” she explained as she stirred the contents of the pot currently bubbling on the stove top. After a moment, she turned and smiled at him, putting her hands on her hips, “Why don’t you go up to your room, I’ll call you down when dinners ready.. Besides, there may or may not be a surprise up there for you on your bed.”

At this, he thanked her as he took his notebook quickly up the stairs and into his room. He turned on his oil lamp, making the small room glow with a warm hue. He placed the journal on the bed and smiled, laughing aloud as he picked up the folded cloth waiting for him.

He unfolded it, revealing that it was a new cloak. It was longer than his old one, and when he draped it around himself, he noticed that it was long enough to reach his ankles. There were no rips or loose threads anywhere, and it was much warmer than his old one. He smiled as he layed back on his bed, still cloaked. 

This couldn’t get any better.


	3. The Wolf's Teeth Gleam White With Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is short, and really late aaaaa  
> School became a thing again, and I've been p. busy, but here it is! It'll pick up pace soon, and Eddie shall be seen again hopefully next chapter.

_”You can’t be here, not now, please!_

Waylon’s eyes opened slowly, as he strained his ears to listen. His mind wasn’t altogether as he sat in his bed, muffled words coming up the stairs from below. 

Then something loud broke and he could hear his mother exclaim loudly.

He snapped up in bed, feet unsteady as he stumbled to the door, still wearing his cloak, he noticed, throwing it open and nearly jumping down the stairs, his tail held high as he hurried to see if his mom was okay.

“Mom, what happened?!” he called, stopping in his tracks as he gripped the railing tightly, staring into the kitchen. There was a man, and his mom was standing by the running sink, both staring back at him. 

He smelled familiar. He smelled disgusting, he decided.

“Oh. Waylon, sorry for waking you so early, honey.. I just.. dropped a plate. I was washing dishes.” His mother explained as she made a shifty glance to the man, whose gaze was focused on Waylon. This was when Waylon noticed the man’s furry ears.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” he questioned as he came all the way down the stairs, standing as tall and stiffly as he could manage (Though he only stood around the man’s shoulder), his tail straight out, fur bristling, and ears perked up, twitching occasionally. 

The man stared at him for a minute, a hint of surprise in his eyes, a hint of distaste also visible when you looked close enough. “Ah, Wayler! You aren’t happy to see me? Tell me you’re joking, you don’t even remember me?”, the last question was accompanied by a angry look flashed to his mother. 

It took him a moment, but at “Wayler”, it hit him. “Dad?” he asked, voice wavering as his stance fell a little bit. 

At the revelation, the older wolf smiled, straightening up and lowering his shoulders. “Atta’ boy.”

It wasn’t a friendly smile.

“Get out”, Waylon snarled as he took up his aggressive posture again, taking a step closer.

“Waylon, please! Your father wanted to come see you”, his mother exclaimed, hurrying over to touch her son’s shoulder, trying to make him calm down.

His father growled as he raised his shoulders, making himself larger again, “You want to say that again, Wayler?” he asked in a threatening tone. 

Waylon looked at his mom for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning away to go back upstairs quickly. 

He grabbed his pen and journal before heading back down the stairs, putting his hood up, and leaving, shouting “I’ll be back later” over his shoulder before slamming the door.

Why did his father have to come back?

…

Waylon made another tick mark on the page he was currently flipped to in his notebook. He was thirty ticks from his house, and heading off to the market. Every step, he would place a tick mark, adding in details, such as landmarks, as he went by them. 

He didn’t really have a plan when he burst from his home earlier, but he needed to calm down. He decided on the fly that he would make a map, maybe several. It all depended on how he felt and when he wanted to go home again. 

It only took about ten more minutes for him to reach the market, finishing his map off with a crude layout of the town, with a label “Mount Massive” hanging above it in bold. 

It was still early, a little past noon, so the market was still busy. He didn’t work today, the bakery was closed today, so he couldn’t go fuck around with Jeremy, or help his grandmother either. He decided he would just walk around for a while. Maybe something exciting would bring it’s way to him.

…

He wandered around for a while, before stopping to look at a stand selling different scarves. He wasn’t really interested in buying one, Winter was still a few weeks away, and he still had a functioning scarf at home. He turned his head and straightened his back when he heard someone call in his direction. 

Sitting at a familiar booth a few feet away was the woman he had bought his journal from. She smiled at him, and he looked confused for a moment, before setting down the scarf and walking over to her. 

“Hello”, he greeted once he passed a few people, “Do you need something?”

“Don’t be so formal”, she chuckled as she stood up, putting her items in boxes and locking them inside the cart safely. “You looked bored, come on, let’s walk together”, she says as she takes a step past him.

This was sudden. Waylon stood in place for a moment, a confused look on his face for a moment, before she turns to look at him and wave her hand for him to follow.

He takes a deep breath before walking next to her.

“I’m Lisa”, she explained after a moment.

“Waylon”, he returns, and she soon begins talking about random things as they walk around the square.

…

“Really? That’s insane!” Waylon exclaims as he laughs loudly along with Lisa.

They had been walking around for quite a while, completely taking his mind off of his father’s return, and that he would have to go back and face the consequences of mouthing off to him too soon.

Lisa was hilarious, and he had already agreed to meet up with her again sometime next week. She was leading him through a backstreet back to the path he takes to return home, still making jokes about her time selling items in the square, when they are bombarded with the a foul smell coming from down a small alley to their right.

Waylon flinches when it reaches his nose, reaching both hands to cover it, shaking his head roughly and letting out a disgusted noise. 

“What’s up?” Lisa asks as she stops next to him, watching him for a moment, before taking a few deep sniffs, and finally catching onto the smell, twisting her face with displeasure. “Ugh, what _is_ that?” she groaned as they both looked down the alley. It was shadowed, and they couldn’t really see anything, so Waylon took a step in.

Lisa followed him at a far, stopping near a trash bin, “Can you go check it out? I don’t want to find a dead body or something”, she made the last remark as a joke, making them both snicker as he nodded and continued walking in.

He squeezed by a few boxes, throwing a look over his shoulder at Lisa, who waved, and he continued. As he inched forward the stench became stronger, until he reached two trashcans, the lids covering the contents, but there were enough flies infesting the cracks to give away that this was definitely the source of the smell. 

He nearly gagged as he grasped the handle and pulled it off, letting the sight stain his mind. The can was full of rotten meat, some green and black in color, others oozing with maggots and flies. He let out a gross noise from his throat, just as someone shouted.

“Get outta’ here, you rat!”, the voice boomed, making Waylon drop the lid.

The metal clattered at his feet and he stumbled backwards as he made eye contact with the source of the voice. A few feet away stood a ragged looking man, a thick beard and long hair falling onto his chest. He wore a white shirt, stained with red streaks, and his eyes hard and mean. 

“Get out, you _wolf_!” He ordered again, taking a few steps closer to the boy, pushing over the can and spilling the contents onto the floor, oozing towards Waylon.

He scrambled to push past the boxes he came from and nearly tripped one as he ran for the opening to the alley.

He burst from the shadow, feet tripping over themselves as he threw his body past the corner, running straight into Lisa.

“Waylon! Waylon, what happened, you were gone for a while, I was about to just leave!” she exclaimed as he fell to his knees, fingers gripping hard on her dress, the knuckles whitening as he pants hard, pressing his face against her stomach. 

She stays still and only puts an arm around his neck as she pats his head, his ears flat under his hood.

After a moment, he pulls away and pushes himself up from the ground, breathing much more even, though he was only on his knees for about a minute. 

“I’m sorry, Lisa.. I just-I guess I got scared-” He tried to explain, face growing pink, but she interrupted him by holding a finger to his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s our secret. Come on, you should head home, it’s getting late.” she explained as they began walking. His heart was still beating fast as they came to the path leading out of the town. They said their goodbyes, and Waylon began walking home.

In the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake his fears.

How did that guy know he was a wolf?


	4. Fight The Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, this is really late! Sorry guys! I've been pretty busy with school, but hopefully I'll be able to work my butt off every weekend to try and get these out every 1-2 weeks? Idk. Anyways, enjoy! I hope it isn't to fast paced aaaa

Waylon’s mind cleared of his worries when he returned home. He walked in on his parents having a conversation, and his mom informed him that dinner would be ready in a minute. After hanging his cloak up, he took a seat at the dining table, next to where his mom would sit, and across from his dad.

There was a heavy silence over all of them, his mother tending to the meal, his father smiling like the wolf he was, staring at Waylon with daring eyes, and Waylon staring back with a matching fueled anger.

And then their mouths unfolded all at once, almost.

“Say something to your father, Waylon” his mother encouraged, though it was hotly trailed, nearly ran over, by Waylon’s response.

“Why did you leave us?” the boy demanded, voice over powering his mother’s much quieter tone. “Where are my brothers?”

His breathing became more ragged as he let out the questions that had been plaguing his emotions ever since his father made his presence known. His mother dropped the spoon she was stirring a pot with at the mention of her other sons. She turned slightly to take a sideways glance at the man.

Waylon’s father smirked, brows lowering as his ears twitched. “They’re dead, wouldn’t you have already guessed that? Or did you not want to face the facts, like always?” He snarled the last bit.

Waylon didn’t know when he got up, but he was lunging over the table, ears back and tail low as he grabbed for his father’s throat, face, shoulders, anything he could grab. His mother let out a yell as the boy and his dad fell backwards onto the floor, grabbing at each other fiercely, snarling and clawing.

“You were supposed to keep them safe! You were supposed to protect them!” Waylon was screaming as he shook his dad’s head repeatedly. “How could you let them die?”

His father choked and dug his nails into the wood floor below him, his cloak made of many different animal pelts was swaying around them, padding the impact that was being made. He stared into his youngest son’s eyes and smiled wide. 

“I killed them, you idiot child”, he growled out, low and gravelly. It only took a moment, after taking in Waylon’s horrified expression, to gain the upper hand. He pushed his son up from on top of him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming him hard onto the table. It wasn’t enough to break anything, but he would definitely have a busted lip for a while. 

His father brought his mouth close to Waylon’s ear as he laughed, “I could kill you just as easily, so watch yourself, Way. They were weak, like you.” he taunted, before rubbing his face harder into the table.

Waylon tried not to show his pain, but he failed as he let out a whimper, legs shaking from the awkward position and the surges of hurt running through him.   
“Ray, let him go!” his mother sobbed as she grabbed at her husband’s arm weakly. 

He snarled at her, before pushing Waylon down harder, then releasing him and taking a few steps away as his son fell to his knees, blood dribbling down his chin.

His mother helped pull him up, and he reassured her he’d be alright. He walked to the stairs, and gave a glare at his dad before going up to his room and collapsing onto his bed.

…

_”Why would someone do this to such a beautiful face?”_

Waylon’s eyes came into focus on the room around him. The only light was from the moon, pouring into his small bedroom from the open window, cutting through the darkness like a thin and precise blade. 

_”My sweet darling, I’m so sorry this has happened.”_

His hands travel sluggishly up to his face, where they meet the soft and chilling touch of another’s. He tips his head back as his holds the other’s hands, finding another man’s face peering down at him, eyes half lidded as he stroked his cheek with one finger. It stings a little bit when he passes over one spot, but Waylon doesn’t care.

_”Just go back to sleep.. You’re safe”_

And he feels it. “Safe”, he repeats in a groggy whisper as he lets his eyes close again, and he moves his body so that his head in sideways on the stranger’s lap and his hands are resting next to one of his knees.

He’s safe. He knows it’s a dream, but it’s all he’s got, and it feels too real to wipe away.

…

Waylon slams his door in exasperated anger, grabbing his head roughly and growling as he scratches his ears, before falling onto his bed. He kicks a shoe to the wall with frustration, just because he can, for added measure. 

He was troubled, to say the least.

On the bright side, he had been spending a lot of time away from home and with Lisa, taking walks, eating together, helping to sell things at her stand, but most of all, they would just talk. She was his only outlet to complain, joke, or just vent to. And he sure as Hell needed it.

His father was definitely not leaving anytime soon, and he made it clear by making himself right at home, throwing his trash wherever, leaving dirty clothes around the house, and ultimately out wearing his welcome tenfold. He treated their belongings as if they were his, and pretty much treated them like they were belongings, to. 

Waylon had quickly remembered and fallen back into the routine of never arguing, and only speaking out when addressed to. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Currently, he was sporting a large bruise on his back, and a few smaller ones peppering his arms. Sometimes, he could kiss-ass his way out of it, though. At the moment, in fact, he had just been sent to his room as a “warning” because his dad was feeling “generous”. 

He hated the man with every emotion in him. He wanted to do anything he could to piss him off, and at any moment. Little things that would make him growl or yank his ear, anything to get a negative reaction from him. Tonight’s argument had been about Lisa. She had walked home with him, and his dad of course made an offensive remark.

Not only did he want to keep their werewolf secret safe and intact, but he decided from one look at her, that Waylon should definitely choose her as a mate, now that he was a man. Waylon then argued that Lisa was only a friend and that he wasn’t interested in having kids, resulting in a slap to the face, and the room. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t feeling attracted to any town girls. He pushed that into the back of his mind as quickly as it came up.

At the moment, Waylon was a big ball of pissed of hormones, and he was determined to do something reckless. 

He jumped up and wrapped his cloak securely around his shoulders, turning his lamp off to mimic that he was sleeping, before hopping out of his window and sliding delicately off of the shingles. It wasn’t a far drop, and he had done this many times before, so he recovered his balance almost instantaneously.

After a quick insult under his breath, he hurried off into the forest, moonlight and shadows camouflaging his escape into the night.

…

He smiled at his success as he emerged into the town, the square empty and only illuminated by few sparse windows, and the pale glow of the rising moon. He struggled for a moment with himself as he racked his brain, trying to remember where Lisa had told him she had lived. After coming up with a general idea of her home, he set off. It only took a moment to come in front of the small home, pressed up tightly against more buildings, and above her father’s business. Deciding it’d be unwelcomed and strange to knock on the front door at this hour, he hopped the low fence by the building, and going around to the back in the alley way.

He stopped for a moment, frowning as he stared at the building. There were two rooms, but which was the one he wanted to disturb? He studied the small differences in the windows, desperately thinking. One had plain curtains, the other had none. He finally decided he was getting nowhere, and would be better off just looking for himself. 

He was good at climbing, but not with shoes on. He was never one for walking around filthy alleys without shoes, though. He gripped some of the jutting ledges in his hands, finally guessing that it’d be fine. The wolfboy hoisted himself up onto a thin ledge, stepped up onto the frame of the back door with one foot, and craning his neck to look into the curtainless window, fingers curled firmly around the window sill. It was dark, aside from the square of light coming from the moon behind him, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust enough to make out the room. It was small, but neat. He traveled his eyes over the various pieces of furniture, until coming to rest on the bed.

He could make out the shape under the covers, and his mouth corner twitched when he recognized the face of his target. He pulled his body up more, standing on his toes as he raised his knuckles and tapped on the glass. After a moment of no movement, he continued, slightly harder. He waited a moment, until he saw the blankets shift, and Lisa go rigid in her bed. 

Now he realised how alarming this was. He was most likely just a silhouette staring in on her while she slept. He quickly balled his fist, waving his fingers quickly as a sign of friendliness. She remained still for another moment, before sitting up quickly and walking over the short distance to the window, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she pulled the panel upwards. 

“Waylon? What the hell are you doing here? And why did you decide to wake me up like that, I thought you were some creepy weirdo trying to kill me, or something.” she half mumbled as she stepped back, motioning for him to come in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it until you woke up!” he insisted, hauling himself up and into her room. “I just wanted to hang out, you know”, he added as he leaned against the window ledge. 

“You wanted to hang out, at”, she glanced and squinted at the clock on the far wall, before turning back to look at him with a more amused expression, “at three in the morning?”

He looked at the carpet and rubbed his shoe on top of the other, “W-well, yeah, I guess so. I didn’t look at the time before I left… But I didn’t want to just walk around alone all night.” He responded, scratching his hair through his cloak. 

Lisa was silent for a moment, before sighing, “Alright, whatever. Just go back outside, I’ll get dressed and meet you out front.”, and with that, she threw her pillow at him, and he laughed before returning to the alley to wait around front.

…

The sound of newly fallen and browned twigs and leaves crunching harshly under their shoes was nearly drowned out by the volume of their voices as they joked with each other, taking turns telling funny, and over exaggerated, stories as they walked along a forest path.

The two had been walking for awhile, deep into the woods. The taller of the two slowly became less social as they walked, before they came upon a small clearing with a broken tree near the center. Waylon led Lisa over to the tree, before looking at her as they both sat down.  
Lisa was quiet, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What’s up, you don’t have to look so happy, you know.” she joked lightly, continuing with a quick, “What, are you gonna kill me or something, Park?”

After he was silent for another minute, resting his elbows on his knees as he took a glance at her, he cracked a smile before sighing. He could punch himself in the face (and maybe even another, more sensitive place, to.) for what he was about to do. There was no going back now.

“Lisa, I need to tell- show you something, about myself.” He explains as he makes turns his body to face her more. “I-I just need you to please stay calm..” Waylon raised his hands, hesitating for a moment as he shared a nod with her, and then he did it.

In one fluid motion, his hood fell back onto his neck, and his fluffy ears sprang upwards and swiveled towards the other, more human, girl. 

First, Lisa looked at him with a shocked look, then confusion, and then she stood up very quickly, her cloak flowing around her as she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Waylon’s heart raced in his chest. He didn’t know why he wanted her to know, but he did. Maybe he wanted to spite his father, maybe he just wanted to share a secret that he’d been keeping for eighteen years, he didn’t know. What he did know now, was that there was a smart girl who knew his secret, and could tell anyone.

“Lisa, I-”, he began, reaching out for her, but she pulled back from him, tapping his hand away as she stared at his face, occasionally looking at the ears in the same general place where his human ears would be, if he were normal.

“W-what are you? Are those real, or are you just joking?” she asked as she let her posture soften slightly, seeing that Waylon wasn’t going to jump up and bite her or something.

“Just.. Sit down, and I’ll explain.. Please?” he finally muttered as he gestured to the log again. She sat.

“Do you.. have a tail, or are you really hairy to, or something like that?” she asked, staring with wonderment.

He cracked a smile at the hair bit, scratching his head before pulling his cloak completely off, letting his tail lay on the log in between them. “Yeah, sure.. But I only get all hairy on full moons, haha. Now, let me explain all of this.”

And then he began, wagging his tail softly as she laid a hand on it halfway through his first sentence.

…

“We should go.”

Waylon and Lisa laid in the fallen leaves, talking about mostly Waylon’s strange DNA, but touched some on the fact that Lisa had always loved to read about fairy tales when she was a child, so she was overly excited to meet a werewolf. They watched the stars and leaves above as they talked. Waylon also exposed that he was gay, which she, thankfully, took well. 

“Go where? Home?” Waylon questioned as he turned his head to look at her, though she continued to gaze at the night sky.

“No, dummy, we should go to that mansion.” She insisted as she propped herself up onto her elbows.

Oh, yeah. They had also talked about Waylon’s crazy dreams, but that had happened a few days ago. 

“That was just a silly dream,” he chuckled, “If we just wandered off into the woods, we’d get lost. But maybe we should go home, I mean it’d be strange for you to randomly come home if your father wakes up in the morning and you aren’t home. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

He held out his hand for her to take after brushing himself off, and she accepted it, pulling herself up with his help, and they began their walk back to the village.

As they walked, Waylon twirled the key with one hand hidden under the cloak, mind drifting to the mansion.


	5. Questions Of A Vague Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon takes a walk to the place he had remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woAH I'M ON TIME  
> *blows party noise maker thing and coughs confetti*  
> the ending's a little rushed, sorry! ;m;

It didn’t take long to reach Lisa’s home again, and Waylon was happy to find that he still had around three hours until he needed to get home, as to not be discovered by his parents. He said goodbye to Lisa quickly, and parted ways, heading back into the forest. But this time, he didn’t turn to go home. He continued walking, holding tightly onto the old key around his neck.

…

It was chilly. He let a shiver take his body for a moment as the hair on his neck and tail bristled as his feet broke the layer of leaves coating the narrow path. He had been walking for awhile, and as he walked farther and farther from where he knew his home was, he began to stop turning to look back down the path again. Partly because he began to not care about home, and partly because he was scared he may turn to see something unpleasant waiting behind him, lurking after him.

His gaze was locked firmly on the long and dark path in front of him. He felt in his head that the only way he was able to see at the moment, was due to the light glow of the moon, and his inhuman eyesight. He studied the path closely for any landmarks or break offs that he could take. And there it was.

He could hear his blood thrumming through his ears, the constant thump of his quickly paced heart nearly deafening as he stopped dead, staring down the path. He was really starting to hope that it _wasn’t_ a dream, simply for the fact that he was in desperate need to know he was right about something.

He felt fear grip his stomach and twist it, squeezing his fragile frame with a death-grip from Hell, and then he took a deep and shaky breath before charging down the path.

…

Waylon ignored distinct feeling in his gut that he should turn back and throw the key away into the underbrush to be claimed by the dense forest surrounding him, though his instincts told him he was in a bad spot.

He had been walking for quite a while, and just before he began to seriously considering just turning around and calling it closed, he emerged into a clearing of sorts. As he stared at the sight before him, he took a thick intake of breath.

Before him stood the huge mansion, the only thing separating him from it was the long stone walkway, once beautiful, now overgrown with moss and weeds. He could tell the mansion used to be a deep blue color, but now the paint was peeling and chipping, and what little areas still covered where now a very pale ashy blue. Wild flowers and bushes grew around the house, while long vines crept up the walls, supported by huge clumps of moss trimming the home. And, he noticed that a few of the windows were illuminated with a yellow light.  
This caught him off guard. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it sure wasn’t someone living in the mansion that he had thought was a figment of his imagination. His curiosity got the better of him as he began walking towards the tall double door entrance.

It was eerily quiet, which was strange to him, though completely expected at the same time. He was expecting a million emotions and thoughts to be racing through his head, but his mind was in a strange sense of ease as he stood on the porch, staring at the wood, reaching up to run his fingers over the rough surface before letting it hang loosely at his side.

Now he stopped to think. Was he supposed to knock, or could he just walk in? Finally, upon thorough consideration to the fact that this place looked as though no one had lived there in years, he went with the latter. He turned the handle slowly before pulling the door open, a long creak splitting the air. He opened it only enough so that he could slip through the gap, and then he quietly shut the door behind him.

He gaped at the foyer for a moment, taking in all of the main features. The large room was illuminated by a rather lovely chandelier hanging from the ceiling above, cobwebs draped from the many candles and metallic arms holding them. Next, he noticed the large staircase leading up before splitting off into two separate paths upwards, both disappearing into a hallway of their own. On his current floor, he had the option of going to his left or his right, one a dark hallway and the other letting a little bit of light spill out from behind two more large doors, respectively. 

He decided, with the idea that lights meant something good, to go right. He pushed open the door slowly, peeking into the room in front of him. It was well lit, and appeared to be a large dining room. After a moment of analyzing the area, he pushed the door all the way open and took a few tentative steps into the room. 

He stopped at the end of the table, running a finger over the wood, picking up and cleaning off a long line of dust. He wiped the excess from his finger onto his pants, slightly disgusted with the state of the room. It was as if time had forgotten about this place, covering everything in a thick layer of dust, preserving and masking the once new and pristine furniture with a ghostly look of neglect.

The table and chairs were all lined up correctly, despite the dust. In fact, when Waylon looked closely, he could see that all of the chairs lined up perfectly with one another, equalling in about twelve chairs. His eye studied the dining room, until it drifted to the chair closest to him. Or rather, the floor under it. It was completely clean of any dust, and when he pulled out the chair, he noticed the whole little area was neat and clean.

Just before he was about to go to a doorway at the far end of the room, he heard the wood behind him creak and an intake of breath. 

“Darling?”

Waylon’s heart race sped up so quickly he thought he was going to faint, he nearly screamed as he turned around as quickly as possible, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stared ahead.

There, standing in the doorway was the man. The man that he had met years before.

And he looked just about as shocked as Waylon.

Waylon wanted to run away as fast as he could, dive out a window, throw a chair at him, scream and cower, and a lot of other things, but he stayed firmly in place as the man took a few steps closer.

He was tall and muscular, which was the most intimidating thing about him so far. Waylon felt that if they were to stand next to each other, the man would be a good foot taller than him, at the very least. He was also dressed in fancy clothing, which seemed a little out of place for the fact that he had been wearing the same clothes the night they had met, though Waylon supposed it was fitting for their setting.

“Don’t come any closer,” he pleaded more than demanded, as he pushed the chair back with his leg to further distance them. The man stopped when told, waiting patiently near the front end of the table.

“You.. You’re that guy that took me home when I was younger, right?” He asked, nearly shivering at the small nod that the other gave in reply, a small smile on his lips.

“And so.. You were in my room the other day to?” Another nod, and he began to clasp his hands around each other.

“Are you a vampire?” Waylon swallowed thickly as he stared intently for a reply.

This time he chuckled and smiled wide, revealing his fangs as he spoke. “Yes, I do believe so, from the last time I’ve checked.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Waylon choked out quickly, bracing himself as the vampire took a few more steps closer, standing a couple of steps away with brows raised in disbelief.

“I would never do such a thing! Now, I’m sure you have some more questions? If so, would you like to sit down?”

Waylon took a moment, before nodding slowly.

“Splendid, I’ll make tea.”

…

Waylon stared at the vampire sitting across from him, sipping from a very expensive looking cup of tea. 

The man had lead that boy to a small sitting room, complete with a steadily burning fireplace. As soon as they had settled, Waylon had asked nearly every question he could muster from his brain. 

So far he had learned that this man had been following him around from the time when he had first seen him wandering around alone in the woods at age fifteen, the man was nearly two thousand years old (38 by human and wolf development and appearance), they were indeed in his house, and the man was ridiculously attracted to the young wolf in the room.

He made this very clear when he made sure to express it clearly when Waylon had accused him of it, and when he would make prolonged eye contact, or put on a very wide smile whenever Waylon addressed him in any way.

Sure, that was really weird, being eighteen and having some weirdo vampire who’s twenty/two thousand years older than you want to get in your pants and also have a romantic relationship with you, but Waylon had to admit, he was pretty hot. Though he kept that to himself, for obvious reasons.

Overall, Waylon’s nerves were calmer than they had once been and he was somewhat comfortable in the vampire’s presence, seeing as he was convinced that the man wasn’t about to jump up and suck the blood straight from his face like some sort of gross juice box.

“What’s your name?I’m Waylon Park.” Waylon finally asked, realizing that he had forgotten to ask earlier. That was kind of an important piece of information.

The man’s face grew pink, making his pale complexion almost look normal. He hadn’t introduced himself. How rude. “Oh, yes, so sorry! Where have my manners disappeared to,” he set his cup down neatly, and scooted forward in his chair, holding out one hand to the boy, “My name is Theodore Gluskin Jr., but you may just call me ‘Eddie’, if you’d like.”

Waylon hesitated for a moment before extending his own hand and shaking it, though his rather small and girlish hand was nearly devoured by the other man’s, though the shake was firm, yet gentle, only lasting for a moment.

“Being referred to as ‘Theodore’, or anything of the like brings up distasteful memories,” Eddie gave a half hearted laugh as he dropped his hand back to his lap.  
Waylon’s jaw nearly fell open again as he processed the name. “You’re a Gluskin? Like, the vampires who warded off the werewolves decades ago?”

Eddie now looked slightly sheepish, cheeks tinted a nice hue, “Yes, that was us! Though, I was still only a small child at the time.. I can hardly remember anything that had been going on.”

The young wolf paused for a moment, “Don’t you, like… Hate werewolves, then? Or, isn’t in your blood to hate us? Why are you so..”, he paused, realizing how strange this was, “interested in me?”

Eddie gazed at him blankly for a moment, before staring past him, a frown tugging at his lips and his brows furrowing. “I.. No. I suppose it’s common among our respective species to not typically get along with one another, though i suppose I’ve always been an exception. I never really felt the hatred my kin felt towards wolves.” He scooted forward in his seat, nearly falling off the front as he licked his lips and continued, iridescent eyes shifting, “I’ve known of your family from a young age, Mr. Park, and I never really felt any interest in your line, until you came along.”

“You mean the night in the woods?” Waylon asked, interrupting.

He thought quickly for a moment, as if hiding something, “Yes, of course.”

Waylon caught the action, though he brushed it off with a raised brow. He was silent for a moment, not sure what else to ask at the moment. He was very proud of himself for how calm he was in the situation at hand. “So, can I come over when I want to, or do you want me to.. send warning or something, somehow?” He asked, rubbing a palm on his pants out of boredom.

“Yes, no need for an invite, you have permission to enter my home, though I would like if you’d respect me enough to not go upstairs alone.” Eddie smiled politely.

Waylon nodded agreeably, he wasn’t really one to snoop anyways. Just before Eddie could say anything again, Waylon stood up quickly, ears perking, then sliding down to rest at his head. 

“Shit!”, Eddie grimaced at the word, “How long have I been here? I’ve got to get home, fast! Sorry for leaving so abruptly, uh, Eddie”, he quickly set the tea down, nearly spilling it, before hurrying over to the vampire, then pausing, not sure what he was doing, “Um, are hugs appropriate right now- oh who cares”, he reached down and wrapped his slender arms around the man’s neck for a long moment, both inhaling the other’s smell. For easier goodbye, he practically straddle the vampire, before letting go and hurrying off.

Eddie stared after him, confused, and slightly aroused.


End file.
